


In the Darkest Hour

by Katzedecimal



Category: Bruno and Boots - Fandom, Macdonald Hall - Gordon Korman
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Medical Cannabis, Post-Canon, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-06 08:58:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17936771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzedecimal/pseuds/Katzedecimal
Summary: The O'Neals were not at all happy when they found out about their son's relationship with his best friend from childhood.  Now Melvin "Boots" O'Neal has to pick up the pieces of his life.  But Bruno has always been good at rebuilding crumbling worlds.





	1. Outed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sirwestaytay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirwestaytay/gifts).



“My parents found out about us,” Boots said in a grey voice.

Bruno stared at the video phone in shocked silence for several moments. “Oh,” he said finally, “I’m guessing they didn’t take it well.”

“The ‘cut off my university funding’ kind of didn’t take it well. My,” Boots barked a grief-stricken laugh, “My world is crumbling around me! I’m being evicted, I have forty-eight hours to leave and I have nowhere to go.”

“Hold that thought,” Bruno said, “And stay near your phone. I’ll call you back real quick, okay? Just don’t go anywhere yet.”

“Where’m I gonna go?”

* * * *

The thunder of feet coming up the stairs made Helena Walton look up from her decoupage. She saw the expression on her son’s face, “What’s wrong?”

“Boots’s parents found out about our relationship and they’re kicking him out. This is his darkest hour! He has to leave the university and he has nowhere to go!” 

“Where is he?” 

“UBC. Vancouver. He’s in their Kinesiology program but I don’t think he was enjoying it. He thinks it’s punishment for never making it to the Olympics.”

Helena put down her decoupage roller and went to call upstairs, “Giorge! How do you feel about having another son?”

There was the sound of a chair being shoved back, footsteps, then a much-older Bruno peered over the bannister, “At our age?!”

Helena grinned, “Bruno’s boyfriend Boots O’Neal. His parents didn’t take it as well as we did.”

“Oh shit,” Giorge Walton came down the stairs, his warm brown eyes staring into his son’s, “They’re kicking him out?”

Bruno nodded, “He’s got forty-eight hours. I checked my bank account and some travel websites, I can cover the cost of a flight to Toronto, if… I mean… if you…”

Helena and Giorge looked at each other. They nodded subtly, in the way of the long-married. “We can work out the logistics later. Let’s just get this kid to safety, first.” Giorge nodded and went to get his laptop. 

* * * *

“Okay,” Bruno said, as soon as the video call connected, “Pack the essentials.” Boots smiled wanly and held up a backpack and duffel bag. “That’s my boy,” Bruno grinned, “Okay, your ticket and flight information should be hitting your inbox in a few minutes. Sorry, it’s a red-eye.”

“Where am I going?” Boots asked, trying not to hope.

But Bruno grinned, “Here! Obviously! Come on, you knew I was going to try for it. My parents said yes. My dad’ll pick you up at Toronto Pearson.”

“Thanks Bruno,” Boots sighed. His notification alert chimed. “I’ll have to mail my textbooks and stuff. I better hurry.”

“I know this is cutting it close but it was the best price we could find within that time frame. There was a dirt cheap one on Wednesday.”

Boots shook his head, “I can’t wait that long.”

“Yeah that’s what I thought. Look, you get going, okay? I’ll see you later tomorrow. We’ll worry about the rest of it when you get here.”

Boots smiled, blinking hard, “Thanks, babe.”


	2. The Waltons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boots comes home. He's never lived there, but it's home nonetheless.

After a long and weary flight, Boots O’Neal walked down jetbridge into Toronto Pearson Airport, Terminal 3. He was exhausted, both from the flight and from, well, his life. He walked into the baggage claim area and found the carousel with his flight number. He set his backpack down and took out his phone. There was a text from an unknown number, telling him that Mr. Walton was outside. He texted back then sat down to wait. He spotted his duffel bag and positioned himself to scoop it up, then walked out to find Mr. Walton 

He wasn’t hard to spot. Bruno was practically cloned from the man. His dark hair was streaked with a few strands of grey but his eyes were just as warm, just as soulful. Without a word, he opened his arms and hugged Boots to him. Boots tried not to cry but a few tears slipped out anyways.

After a long embrace, Mr. Walton patted his back and pulled away to hold his shoulders. “Let’s get you home.”

* * * *

“Home” was a modest but well-appointed house a moderate distance from the University of Toronto campus where Bruno was taking public policy and administration. “Bruno lives down here,” Mr. Walton said, “We renovated the basement when after he called us to say he didn’t want to live in the dorms anymore. He thought it’d be like MacDonald Hall, you know?”

Boots grinned wryly, “Yeahhhhhhhhh no.”

“I visited once. I was shocked. So we built him a bachelor pad and he helps pay for it. Here.” He flicked on the lights.

It really was a bachelor pad. There was a full kitchenette complete, Boots noted with great amusement, a dishwasher, a living room with TV, multimedia gaming centre, and a student desk with computer. Surprisingly, it was almost tidy. He opened a door and felt a strong surge of nostalgia and relief - the bedroom was comfortably messy, with even a few of the old posters that had decorated Room 306 in Dormitory 3 at MacDonald Hall. 

“Bruno’s got classes and I’ve got to get back to work. You get some sleep. When you get hungry, there’s food in the fridge there, Bruno made a late run last night for you.”

Boots set his duffel bag and backpack down then looked at Mr. Walton. “Thank you for bringing me here. I’ll try to find a way to pay you back.”

Mr. Walton shook his head, “I didn’t do that. Bruno paid for it. That was his deal.”

“What?”

“That was his money. He said he’d take responsibility for you, pay your way.” Mr. Walton grinned suddenly, “You make my son happy. That’s all I ever wanted for him. He’s talked about you for years, always wants to do things for you and do things with you. Every year, he couldn’t wait to get back to MacDonald Hall so he could be with you again.”

Boots blushed and looked down, “Not just him.”

“It wasn’t a surprise to us,” Mr. Walton said gently. He touched Boots’s arm gently, “Now you make my son want to step up and be a responsible man, take care of the one he loves. We’ll work out the logistics later. You’re safe and welcome here.”

“Thank you,” Boots whispered. He watched Mr. Walton go then took his bags into Bruno’s bedroom and sat on the bed. Man, it really did remind him of old 306. He unzipped his duffel bag and drew out a few things. The poster had to be folded but he wasn’t leaving it behind. He put it up on the wall where it would have been in 306. He hung up his jacket, shucked his jeans and socks, suddenly exhausted. He lay down on the bed and cried himself to sleep.

* * * *

“I’m home!” Bruno called and listened. The house was quiet, his parents hadn’t yet arrived. He scanned the shoe mat and saw an unfamiliar pair of sneakers. “Okay, where’s my guy at?” He thumped down the stairs to his basement suite just as his bedroom door opened and Boots peered out. 

They stared, drinking in the sight of each other. “There’s my guy,” Bruno grinned.

“Bruno…”

“Yeah. C’mere, babe.” Bruno pulled him down into a hug, felt him trembling as he tried unsuccessfully to hold back more tears. “It’s gonna be okay, Boots, I promise,” he whispered, “I’m gonna take care of you. You’re my guy. It’s you and me again. Bruno and Boots, just like always, right?”

Boots had to smile, “Right. I’ll start looking for a job, I’ll work on my resume…”

Bruno was shaking his head, “Next week. Dad texted me. We’ll start all that next week. This week is for you, rest and recover, get settled in, work on getting your smile back.”

“Might have started that,” Boots said, gesturing into the bedroom. 

“Oh, hot gazoobies!! You still got that poster? Oh man, it looks just like old Room 306 in here!” He reached up to kiss Boots soundly. “Aw, thanks, man, that’s beautiful. Wait, I think I hear Mom. Yup, she’s home. Come on, let’s go up and help with dinner.”

* * * *

“So you were studying Kinesiology at UBC?” Mrs. Walton asked.

Boots hesitated, “That’s what my parents wanted, yeah.”

Mr. Walton caught it and looked up, “But you?”

Boots hesitated again, pushing his food around on his plate. He glanced at Bruno then admitted, “It was one of the sticking points with my parents. I think they were disappointed in me because I never made it to the Olympics, either in swimming or in hockey. They wanted me to take Kinesiology so all my sports training wouldn’t be wasted. But I’m really not into it.”

“Is there another direction that interests you?”

“Yeah. They didn’t take that well, either.”

“What happened?”

“Well… There was this big wildfire in the Okanagan Valley, it was on the news. I was watching and I just felt so helpless. I wanted to **do** something to help but there was nothing I could do. I watched these men, coming from all over Canada to fight this massive fire and I thought ‘and I’m stuck here studying useless Kinesiology.’ I mean,” he looked at Bruno, then looked at the Waltons, “We saved MacDonald Hall. We helped save the Manchurian bush hamsters. We bought the Hall a pool. I’m used to **doing** things, I’m used to being part of the action, I’m used to making things happen. So I started researching firefighter schools and I meet the physical qualifications and my parents… They just.. They didn’t understand. They wouldn’t understand.”

The Waltons looked at each other, and at Bruno, who was beaming with pride. “There are firefighter schools in Ontario, surely. What did your research find?”

“Most of the programs are two-year or three-year diploma or certificate,” Boots said promptly, “Most are full-time courses but there are some part-time. They range in cost but the ones I saw were a lot less than Kinesiology.”

“Hot gazoobies!” Bruno yelped. He was staring at his phone, “There’s one in Brockton that offers special wildfire training too!”

“That’s two and a half hours from Toronto,” Mrs. Walton mused.

Mr. Walton nodded, “Does it offer residences?”

“Holy gazoobies, Humboldt College has a course! That’s here in Toronto! Maybe you can start there and transfer to the Brockton college for the wildfire course? That’d knock a lot off the pricetag too.”

“How much?” Mr. Walton asked. Bruno turned his phone around to show him. His eyebrows jumped, “That’s a good price. If you got a student loan for that, you should be able to pay it back fairly quickly. Maybe there are bursaries and scholarships too?”

“I won a scholarship for UBC but I don’t think they’ll let me have that back,” Boots sighed.

Mr. Walton patted his hand, “We’ll make it work. We’ll find a way. Next week you’ll go talk to Humboldt, find out what options they have, find out if you can take that wildfire course somehow. We’ll find a way to make it work.”


	3. George of the Concrete Jungle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start looking up when Boots lands a new job. Then he finds out who he's working _for._

Mr. Walton had been right. Boots had needed that week to to to _grieve_ , to mourn his situation and the loss of his family. Bruno had doted on him at every available moment. Boots had made himself basically a house husband, doing chores, trying to be useful both to Bruno and to the Waltons. 

Now he was browsing the racks of Valuetown, looking for a blazer or sport coat in his size. Nothing. He shook his head and went out to take the bus back to Queen Street.

He’d polished up his resume and surfed the job sites, applying to whatever looked doable. He’d had to quit his job in Vancouver with next to no notice and hoped that wouldn’t be held against him. 

He found what he was looking for at a consignment store, a little more than he had wanted to pay but it was in nearly perfect condition, it fit, and it was his colour. He’d get years of use out of it. He found slacks and a few shirts to go with it. He walked out a little more pinched in the penny department but at least he’d be dressed right should he land an interview.

Back at the Walton house, he shoved his shiny new key into the lock and pushed the door open. He spent most of his time downstairs in Bruno’s suite, keeping out of the way. He put his bags down and noticed that the computer was awake, just as Bruno came out of the bathroom. “Hi, hon. Early day today?”

“Yeah, I gotta work tonight. Where’ve you been?”

Boots held up the bag, “Shopping. I got an appointment at Humboldt later this week. And I applied for some jobs so I figured I should look the part if I get an interview.”

Bruno shook his head, “Yeah, too bad my Blue Books location isn’t hiring, you could come work with me. I saw your tabs open. What’d you apply for?”

Boots tapped the touchpad to bring up the browser window and tapped the screen, “These ones.”

“Whoa, what about this one?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Dude, look at the pay!”

“Bruno, I want to be a firefighter. I can’t be a firefighter if I’m dealing drugs!”

Bruno rolled his eyes, “It’s not dealing drugs, it’s a Patient Care Rep for a licensed medical cannabis producer.”

“You know that and I know that and pretty much everyone over our age group knows it as dealing drugs. My parents…”

“Aren’t in the picture,” Bruno said bluntly.

“Alright, but your parents might have something to say about it, and how’s it going to affect me at Humboldt?”

“Ask them,” Bruno replied, “Look, Boots, you’re right, but this has been a legit job field for a few years now, they’ve got to have encountered this before. At that pay rate? Hell, I might even apply! Besides, they’re talking about legalizing it completely, right? So the fire guys have to be getting their ducks in a row about it.”

Boots sighed, “I suppose you’re right. It’s not like I’ve even applied for it yet.”

_click click_ “Well you have now.”

Boots gasped, “What?! Bruno, no! Bruno, what will your parents say?!”

“’Good luck’, probably,” Bruno shrugged.

* * * *

“Um, I can get in at Humboldt, I can start in September if I can get a student loan. They’re giving me some help with that and there are some bursaries I can apply for.”

“Hot gazoobies!” Bruno crowed, “This is great!” 

“And I’ve got an interview at WexCanna.” Boots glanced nervously at Mr. and Mrs. Walton as Bruno beamed. 

“WexCanna, what’s that?”

“It’s… It’s a medical cannabis licensed producer,” Boots said quickly.

“It’s perfectly legal and it’s a legit job,” Bruno cut in, “And it pays nearly five dollars an hour more than other call centre jobs. If he gets this, he’d be able to pay rent and save up more for his fire fighter courses.”

“Will it affect your career?” Mr. Walton asked. 

Boots took a breath. “I told the guy at Humboldt that I’d applied,” he shot a quick Look at Bruno, who grinned innocently, “And he showed me the rules that the jurisdictions are adopting around consumption, so I should be okay. And Bruno was right, as far as working there, it’s just a job and they don’t have anything against it.”

The Waltons looked at each other and shrugged. “Well, I don’t have an issue about it. Good luck with the interview.”

Helena grinned wickedly, “And if you get free samples, you have to share.”

* * * *

“’Mel P. O’Neal’, why is that name familiar…”

“He’s a candidate, sir. They’re interviewing him now.”

“’Mel P. O’Neal’, ‘Mel P…’ Ohhhhh no! No no no no no!”

* * * *

“Yes. Thank you. Thank you for your time,” Boots said formally. He performed the required handshakes and backed out of the door. 

“Awwwww no!” groaned a voice behind him. “It **is** you!”

A familiar voice. A **very** familiar voice. Boots’s eyes widened. _**Wex** Canna… Oh no! What have I done?_ He grinned wolfishly and turned around, “George Wexford-Smythe The Third, how the hell are ya?”

“Melvin O’Neal.”

Boots’s grin turned icy, “I’ll allow ‘Mel.’”

“What are you doing here?”

“Flunking an interview at your company, apparently,” Boots sighed, “Seriously, George? Cannabis? I would have thought weed was too vulgar for you.”

“Money is never vulgar, Mel,” George said loftily, “And neither is riding the wave of the future.” Boots snorted but he’d noted the ‘Mel’. “No, really, **what** are you doing here? The last I’d heard, you were out at UBC.”

“Yeah well,” Boots looked away, “Circumstances. Things changed.”

George watched him shrewdly, “What happened?”

Boots rolled his eyes. Back at MacDonald Hall, he and George had briefly been assigned to each other as roommates. They wouldn’t have gotten along even if Boots _hadn’t_ been desperate to get back together with Bruno. “As if I’d spill my guts to you.”

“You’re not at UBC and you’re interviewing at my company, what happened?”

Boots rolled his eyes again, “To paint a broad brush over it, my parents didn’t agree with my choice of career. I am **here** because I’m looking for a job so I can pay for firefighter school. Now if you’ll excuse me, Bruno’s picking me up so we can get an early supper before he goes to work.”

But George followed him out to the lobby, “Bruno? Bruno Walton?”

“Well, yes.”

“I heard he was at U of T?”

“Yeah, at the Muttart School of Public Policy.”

“Really?”

“Oh come on, he was born to be a politician.”

George snorted, “Can’t argue with that. Where’s he working?”

“Blue Books. He’s a cashier.”

“That’s me,” Bruno said, coming up behind them. He looped his arm around Boots’s waist and kissed him lightly, “Hi babe!”

Boots couldn’t help it - his heart melted and he felt his tension drain away at the sight of Bruno’s easy smile, “Hey. You remember George, from the Hall?”

“George!” Bruno crowed, “George **Wex** ford-Smythe the Third!” He shot Boots a Look of _ohmygod I’m so sorry I had no idea._ “How’s the ol’ Magneco, George?”

“A steady income producer,” George said, “Not where my passions lie now, though. Mel said you’re dining before work; what time do you work? Do you have time to catch up? There’s an arepa cafe just around the corner.”

“A little over ninety minutes,” Bruno replied, glancing at Boots. Back at the Hall, George had been on Boots’s bad side for insisting on calling him Melvin, deeming nicknames to be ‘vulgar.’ Boots nodded slightly. “Sure. Arepas sound good.”

“Great! Just let me tell my admin assistant,” George said and popped back into the building.

* * * *

“So, George, why’d you get into medical cannabis?” Bruno asked, leaning out of the way as their orders arrived.

“Believe it or not, Sidney Rampulsky.”

“ _Sidney Rampulsky?_ ” Bruno and Boots chorused. “Old Butterfingers?”

George nodded and picked up his arepa, “Turns out he has a degenerative joint disease that’s been causing his skeleton to slip out of place. That’s one reason why he’s so clumsy. He’s constantly dislocating something.”

“Oh wow!” said Bruno, “And he takes cannabis for what, for pain?”

“Yes, he finds it very helpful and I became interested in how the industry was developing. Papa said it was just a front and could never be a respectable business, so I set out to prove otherwise.”

Bruno was impressed. “What’s Sidney doing these days, anyways? I heard he went into finance?”

“He became an auditor. The Toronto business community is terrified of him.”

Boots grinned, “Why, does he destroy their offices?”

“And that too,” George smirked, “But mostly because he’s a bloody good auditor.”

“Oh wow!”

“He combed through two of Papa’s companies. It was an adventure. Let’s just say I learned a lot about what _not_ to do.”

Bruno and Boots both laughed. “Yeah wasn’t your dad in the news a while back? Something about a union dispute and inadequate wages?”

George sighed, “Quite embarrassing, yes. But I believe Papa was wrong about that. I believe the way his companies have treated his employees is not the way forward. I believe the direction I’m going in is ultimately more sustainable. WexCanna and WexSolar are already rising on the lists of Canada’s best employers.”

Bruno swallowed his bite and frowned, “Solar? As in solar power? I thought your dad was invested in the oil sands?”

“Yes he is. He thinks green energy isn’t profitable, so I set out to prove him wrong. With our new contracts in Alberta, WexSolar is set to profit well this year. WexCanna has been steadily in the black for three years now, proving Papa wrong about that as well.”

“Wait wait wait wait wait,” Boots held up his hands, “Are you saying you’ve been starting companies and using employee-forward business practices, _just to piss off your old man_?”

George paused for a moment. “Well when you put it that way, yes,” he said primly. 

Bruno and Boots both fell over laughing. “Who are you and what have you done with George?” Bruno gasped.

Boots wiped his eyes, “Yeah, you’re even respecting my name.”

George shifted in his seat. “Yes, well… As you said, things changed.” He was saved by the chirp of his phone. “Ah!” he smiled and looked up at Boots, “They want you for the patient care team. When can you start?”

* * * *

_”All the single ladies! All the single ladies! All the single ladies! All the single ladies!”_

Boots was dance-vacuuming. The realization had hit him half-way through loading the dishwasher. He had a new job, his application to Humboldt had been accepted, his student loan had been approved, and he was on his way to doing what he really wanted to do. And he was living with Bruno again. He was happy for the first time in… well, ages, really. 

_”I started nuclear science. I love my classes! I’ve got a crazy teacher who wears dark glasses. Things are going great! And they’re only getting better.”_

There was a gym down the street and he’d bought a membership. Physical condition was a requirement of firefighting so he couldn’t afford to let himself slide.

_”I ain’t happy, I’m feeling glad, I got sunshine in a bag. I’m useless, but not for long, the future is coming on.”_

He grabbed a duster and powerslid across the floor to the bookshelves, rapping along with the playlist. He wanted to take Bruno out to dinner but Bruno had insisted that he wait until “Budget Day”, whatever that was. Apparently it was a Walton tradition. Every time someone got paid, they’d all gather around the ol’ budget screen and work out how much went to what. Which was why Bruno was so certain he could afford to support Boots on his minimum-wage part-time job. Well that sounded alright to Boots, but he still bought flowers for Mr. and Mrs. Walton. 

_”Ooga shakka, Ooga ooga, Ooga shakka, Ooga Ooga”_

“Are you hooked on a feeling?” Bruno inquired politely. Boots spun around and Bruno felt his heart melt and run out to the floor - Boots was smiling and singing and happy and that was worth everything.

Boots crossed the floor and kissed him soundly, “Babe! I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I got in while you were grooving to the Gorillaz,” Bruno chuckled, “Didn’t want to wreck your jive.”

“Wreck it all you want,” Boots said, “How was work?”

Bruno wrinkled his nose, “Ugh, don’t ask. I had to help unpack a shipment of candles, now I stink. I’m gonna go have a shower in a minute. How was your first day?”

“Mostly paperwork and touring the facilities, which was interesting. Then an online FOIPOP course.”

“FOIPOP what’s FOIPOP oh right, the Freedom of Information and Protection of Privacy Act I knew that.”

Boots smirked, “Hey you’re learning, the system worked!”

“Ah shaddap,” Bruno grinned.

“After that I spent the rest of the day shadowing the call centre. Call centre slash email centre. They said the evening shifts are mostly email, they leave the follow-up calling to the daytime shifts.”

“Sounds pretty good,” Bruno nodded, “Sounds like the only problem is you’re working for George.”

“Ha!” Boots grinned, “Yeah. I’m a little worried about that.”

“Eh, if it goes sour, you can walk. I’ll support you.”

“Yeah and if Blue Books makes you unpack stinky candles again, **I** can support **you** ,” Boots grinned and threw a towel at him, “Go hit the shower. The smell of Mountain Spring Rain is making me gag.”

Bruno kissed him again as he went past to the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, he came back to the bedroom, towelling his wet hair, another towel wrapped around his waist. Boots lay on his side across the bed, head propped on his hand, topless and stripped to his boxer briefs, looking very happy to see him indeed. He smiled a sultry little smile that went straight to Bruno’s heart and said, “You know what we haven’t done since I got here?”

Bruno shed his towel and crawled onto the bed. “Yeah, well… I figured it’d be better to wait. It didn’t seem like you’d be in the mood for that right away. You seemed like you needed cuddles a lot more.”

Boots nodded and sighed, “I appreciate that. You were right. I’m still impressed that you managed to go nearly two weeks, though.”

Bruno chuckled, “Eh, I got hands. I managed three years at the Hall that way. The fourth was a lot more fun, I’ll admit.” They both giggled. Then Bruno’s expression softened and he reached up to cup Boots’s cheek, “You’re much more important, Boots. You’re the most important person in the world to me.”

“Kinda figured that out when you bought a pool for me,” Boots whispered.

“Yeah. That’s kinda when I started working it out, too.”


	4. You Can Have Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance encounter leads to a smashing good party with some very unexpected guests.

It was a grey day and the autumn wind held the promise of winter, blowing colourful leaves off the trees with each gust. The “Vladimir’s Poutine” truck was doing a brisk business. “That sounds like an Arnold pun,” Boots had complained, the first time Bruno had mentioned it. Turned out, it **was** an Arnold pun.

“Arnold!” Bruno grinned as he stepped up to the order window, “Wilburrrrr!”

“Bruno!” The truck door opened and the burly chef stepped out, pumping Bruno’s hand once before enfolding him in a huge bear hug. “Boots!” and he treated Boots similarly.

Boots hugged back just as enthusiastically, “Hey Wilbur! How’s business?”

“We got three new menu items,” Wilbur grinned.

Arnold nodded and added, “And we broke even last month!”

“That’s great! Congratulations!”

“Thanks! We’re all in the black from here!” Arnold grinned. Wilbur stepped back into the truck to continue cooking.

The Hackenschleimer-Wensleydales held a special place in both Bruno and Boots’s hearts, not merely because they went to the same classes at MacDonald Hall. They had been patient and generous with their time and their lived experiences, while the other boys were going through their realizations. Wilbur had gone to cooking school while Arnold took business administration, and together they had opened their food truck business. They often parked near the University and were often up near Humboldt College as well, where Boots was well into his Pre-Service Firefighter Education And Training courses. 

“Melvin?! Is that you?”

Boots stiffened, his face going momentarily odd. Bruno glanced at him apprehensively. Boots turned around. “Edward,” he said icily.

Edward was staring at him. “Um… hi.”

“Hi.” Still cold.

“Um… You look well…”

“Thank you,” Boots said and turned his back on his little brother.

“I didn’t know!!” Edward blurted out. Boots glanced over his shoulder. “I didn’t know they’d go ballistic like that!”

Boots spun around, “You fucking _outed_ me, Edward!”

“I just threw it out as a joke!”

“You had no right to do that, Edward! None!”

“I didn’t know they didn’t know! I didn’t know they’d go off the deep end like that! I didn’t know they’d do that to you!” Edward was on the verge of tears, “And then you disappeared!”

“I didn’t disappear.”

“Mom called the cops but the store said you quit and your roommate at the dorm told them what happened and the cops said you were an adult and they couldn’t do anything and I didn’t know where to find you!”

Boots crossed his arms across his chest, “Well maybe I didn’t want to be found.”

“Fuck, Melvin, I’m sorry,” Edward wailed, “I was stupid, I, I didn’t know. Dad called you a disgrace to the O’Neal name.”

“Oh really,” Bruno oozed up beside Boots and snaked an arm around his waist, smiling a oily smile, “Well. If that’s the case then,” he tipped his face towards Boots and his oily smile softened, “He can always have mine.”

Boots stared at him but Bruno’s expression didn’t waiver. His eyes still sparkled gently and his smile still held the tender edge. Boots felt his own mouth smiling and his eyes never left Bruno’s. “Yeah. That’s a great idea,” he said. Edward gasped. 

“On the house,” Wilbur said as he passed down their orders.

“Aw, you guys,” Bruno said fondly. He popped open his cola and took a sip.

“I gotta go,” Edward said, “When I’m not at the Hall, I’m grounded on grounded and I’m on a hella tight curfew.”

Despite himself, Boots was curious, “Why, what’d you do?”

Edward chewed his lip, “Might’ve said ‘Dad sticks it up **your** ass, what’s the difference?’”

Bruno spit out his drink and nearly collapsed coughing and laughing. Boots tried to decide whether that was forgiveness-worthy. “I don’t want to know.”

“Mom’s loud.”

“I said I don’t want to know.” Arnold was collapsed across the order touchscreen while Wilbur tried to have hygienic hysterics into his elbow.

“The kid’s got a point,” Bruno wheezed, wiping at the tears with the backs of his wrists.

“Did he _really_ just…?”

Boots smiled at Edward, “Yup. And yes, I did. Although now I have to think of another birthday present.”

Bruno stared at him, “What, dude, really? I was gonna make it my Christmas present!” They both grinned at each other.

Wilbur looked from one to the other and made a decision, “Manfred’s Meals, Sunday night, seven thirty. We’re taking over the north dining room.”

Arnold glanced at him, “It’ll be tight.”

Wilbur shook his head, “We’ll just have to close up early. This is _family._ ”

* * * * 

Bruno and Boots walked into Manfred’s Meals and stopped dead - Wilbur wasn’t kidding about taking over the north dining room. Several MacDonald Hall alumni were already there - Larry Wilson, the office messenger; Perry Ellis, the gymnast; and Pete Anderson, the better left unsaid. “I thought it was just us?” Boots gasped.

Bruno pointed, “What’s the laptop for? You’re not doing a slide show, are you?” 

“Of course not,” Arnold said archly.

“YouTube videos?”

“Maybe.”

Boots eyed the number of Reserved signs on the tables, “How many people are you expecting?”

Wilbur shrugged, “Whoever shows up.”

“Am I late?” said a new voice from the door.

“Sidney!”

“Sidney Rampulsky, how ya doing?”

“Hi guys!” Sidney made his way over to the table. They noticed he moved a bit more stiffly than usual and he creaked when he sat down. But his chair stayed upright and he didn’t pull the table over.

Light glittered off of Sidney’s fingers. “Oh _sick_ jewelery!” Bruno said.

“Aren’t they great?” Sidney pulled back his sleeves, revealing the hardware decorating his fingers and wrists, “They’re actually braces! They keep my fingers in place so I can do stuff. I got these great leg braces too that keep my hips and knees and ankles in place but I’m still flexible enough to walk in snow and stuff.”

Boots nodded, “Yeah I heard you had a joint disorder.”

“Yeah sorry about all the times we ribbed you for being clumsy,” Bruno said.

“Accepted,” Sidney shrugged, “I mean, it’s not like **I** even knew. My doctor says I’ve also got a problem with pro… propriso… anyways, it means my brain can’t tell where my body is. But I mean, **I** thought I was just clumsy too and that everyone just kind of low-level ached all the time.”

“Well, most of us did, but that’s because we were busting ourselves up trying to beat York Academy,” said Boots, to laughter.

“Is this seat taken?”

“Mark!”

“Mark Davies!”

“Hi guys!”

Wilbur checked his phone, “Chris Talbot’s on the 401, just passed the Black Creek collectors.”

“Ew, there’s just been a bad accident at Avenue Road. He might want to get off at Keele or Allen and take Lawrence avenue over. Eglinton’s still a mess.”

“When isn’t it,” Wilbur nodded, dialing Chris’s phone to relay the information. 

Boots turned to Mark, “How’s journalism school going?”

Mark’s eyes widened, “You didn’t know? I changed majors. I went into marine biology instead.”

“What, seriously? Everyone figured you’d get into professional editing!”

“Yeah I know, but have you seen the state of professional journalism these days? No way. Anyhow next year I’m doing a practicum in Australia and I can’t wait!”

“That’s great!”

“I heard you changed tracks too, Boots?” said Larry.

“I’m in firefighter school now,” Boots dodged, “Loving it, though! It is **so** much better than Kinesiology.”

Perry Ellis looked surprised, “Kinesiology, that’s what you were doing? That’s kind of alongside my field. I’m going into magnetic imaging.”

“Awesome!”

“And Bruno’s still in politician school.”

“Public policy!” Bruno said.

“To-may-to, to-mah-to.” They all laughed.

The waiter came to take their orders while Larry recounted his adventures in his Records Management certificate program. Then Arnold’s laptop chimed and he grinned, “Here we go, guys.” He tapped a few keys and turned it around, revealing a video chat window with a man and a woman grinning at them. 

Bruno glanced quickly around the table, seeing that nobody else recognised the couple either. “Hi there,” he said. 

The man grinned wider and rolled his eyes, “I figured you might not recognise me right away but I didn’t think it’d be this bad.”

“Oh my God!”

“ **ELMER?** ”

“ _Elmer Drimsdale?!?_ ”

“Elmer, is that YOU?”

“Obviously,” Elmer grinned.

Boots gaped. The young man in the video chat window did not remotely resemble the walking stereotype of a nerdy kid of his memories. Instead of the crisp white shirt and black tie, he wore plaid flannel with the sleeves rolled up. The crewcut was gone, replaced by a loc-hawk fade with stars shaved into the sides. “What happened to your glasses?”

“My eyes finally stablized enough to get LASIK. Anyways, jen Yukiko, mia koramikino. Si parolas Esperonton.”

Bruno burst out laughing, “Oh my God, vere?! …oh god, it’s been ages… Cu vi renkontis al Esperanto kunveno?” 

Yukiko clapped her hands over her mouth and burst into giggles. Elmer grinned at her. “Mi informos ilin,” he said, then looked back at the camera, “No actually, it’s pretty weird. She’s one of the biggest geniuses in Japan and her parents were convinced that no one could possibly measure up to her. In short, they didn’t trust her to pick her own boyfriend. So they set up, get this, a contest, to find someone bright enough for her.”

“A _contest?_ You’re kidding! And you entered it?!”

Elmer shook his head vigorously, “Not my idea! My parents were despairing of ever getting grandchildren, despite that I still haven’t completed a quarter century yet.” The rueful groans of the understanding warmed his heart. “So **they** entered me. So, like, here I am, I don’t speak any Japanese, she doesn’t speak any English, and we’re both just staring at each other like ‘yeah sorry about this, parents right?’ And I just kind of tossed out ‘Vi ne parolus Esperonton, cu vi?’”

“Kaj mi diris ‘Jes! Jes, mi parolas!!’” Yukiko added, beaming.

“And it turns out we have **a lot** in common!” Elmer finished, “But it turns out that a black Canadian boy studying in America wasn’t _quite_ what her parents had in mind when they ran their contest even if I did save the Manchurian bush hamster from extinction, soooooo, we got her a visa and now she’s here!”

“That’s fantastic!”

Bruno leaned forward, “But how do **you** know Esperanto?”

“Because that was a brilliant idea you had!” 

“Uh, Elmer, I only did that because I was hoping Mr. Phelps would mistake it for French.” Laughter. “Although it nearly worked for Spanish!” More laughter. 

“But the principle was scientifically sound,” Elmer said, “French was always my second-worst subject and studies have proven that learning Esperanto improves learning in other languages. So I tried it and it worked!”

“Wow, Elmer, I had no idea!”

“And now I’ve got a soulmate out of it,” Elmer said fondly, “And speaking of soulmates, congratulations, you two!”

There was a chorus of agreements and hearty pats on the back. “Aw, thanks you guys,” Bruno said, “Though I’m a little surprised that none of you seem surprised.”

They all looked at each other. “Well, um, to be honest,” Mark began, “I think pretty much everybody already kind of knew.”

Boots looked puzzled, “Nobody said anything. I was sure there’d be rumours.”

Perry nodded, “Yeah, that’s why no one said anything. We knew what would happen if we did.”

“Myron Blankenship,” everyone chorused the name of MacDonald Hall’s famous blabbermouth and rumour-monger. If **he’d** gotten hold of it, Bruno and Boots would have been outed in no time.

Chris Talbot stopped dead at the door, “Oh no… That guy’s not coming too, is he?” He relaxed at the chorus of anxious Nos. “Phew.. Sorry I’m late. Thanks for the tip, though. I got out at Keele, the backups started before Dufferin. I’d never have gotten here at all.”

Their orders were brought out and Wilbur’s uncle Manfred himself stepped up with a bottle of champagne. Boots caught a glimpse of the label and his eyes widened. “I understand we’re celebrating something very special tonight,” he said urbanely. He turned to his nephew, “You can open this when the time comes.”

“Don’t aim it at Sidney!” Everyone laughed.

“I do apologise for being so tardy, there’s a terrible accident on the 401,” George Wexford-Smythe III stepped in and extended a bottle, “I trust this will make up for it?” He saw the bottle in Wilbur’s hands. “Oh, I see! Take this one home, then.”

“Hey, both my dealers are here!” Sidney grinned.

More than a few eyes popped. “ _What?_ ” Bruno burst into laughter.

Boots grinned, “Yeah, I make a living dealing pot now.”

**_”What?”_ **

George rolled his eyes and took a seat, “It’s nothing so vulgar. Mel works in frontline patient care at my medical cannabis facility, and Sidney is one of the patients we provide care to.”

“Seriously, these guys are great and the WexCanna oils I get are just amazing. Like, I didn’t know what it was like to _not_ ache, even a little bit. This stuff has completely changed my life, it and my braces.”

“Wow,” Perry whispered.

“Folks, food is being ignored,” Wilbur said, making everybody laugh. They picked up their forks and started in. After George had placed his order, Wilbur looked up at him and said, “We’ll be doing Manny’s Monday at your location next week.”

George lit up, “Oh wonderful! The staff will be delighted. I’ll let everyone know.”

“What’s Manny’s Mondays?” Larry asked.

Wilbur gestured with his fork, “I have a deal with Uncle Manfred to use his commercial kitchens to do prep for our food truck. Municipal licensing requirement. In return, we let him use our truck as a test audience for new dishes he wants to try out, before he puts them on the menus either here at Manfred’s Meals or at Manny’s. It’s win-win because our customers get a chance to try Manny’s food they might not be able to afford otherwise. A couple of times we’ve had truffles.”

“Wow!”

“I know where I’m going next Monday!”

“I remember Manny’s! That place was _posh!_ ”

“Melvin!”

Boots froze and stared. _”Edward!_ What are you **doing** here, you’re supposed to have gone back to the Hall! Curfew’s in less than ninety minutes!”

“Yeah, um, I know. Um, we’re not staying long.”

“If The Fish finds out, he’ll hang you out to dry!”

“No, it’s okay, ‘cause I’m like, helping him run an errand.”

“That’s right,” said a **very** familiar voice. 

They all gasped and Bruno and Boots actually stood up. “ _ **MR. STURGEON!**_ ”

“Bruno… Melvin…” The then-and-still-Headmaster of MacDonald Hall stepped forward to shake their hands… then embraced each of them and kissed their cheeks, leaving both of them stunned speechless. “Edward confided that he was missing his big brother’s engagement party,” Mr. Sturgeon said softly, “I felt it was my duty to personally congratulate two of my most memorable students, and on behalf of the MacDonald Hall faculty and students. And Edward has been an excellent navigator, there’s a terrible accident on the 401.”

“Thank you sir. It’s good to see you again,” Bruno finally found his voice while Boots mouthed ‘Does Mom know?’ at Edward. 

Mr. Sturgeon saw it and drew a breath. “Normally I would not undertake such an outing with a student without parental permission, however,” he met Boots’s eyes, “I understand that there are extenuating circumstances.”

Boots nodded, “Thank you, sir.”

“Will you join us?” Wilbur gestured at some empty chairs, “Please?” The others took up the chorus.

“I suppose we can stay for an appetizer,” Mr. Sturgeon looked at Edward, “Or perhaps a dessert. But understand, you **will** be in class on time.”

“Yessir. Thank you, sir.”

They pulled out chairs but Mr. Sturgeon went around the table to shake the hand of every man there, “Mark… Larry, good to see you again. I understand you went into Records Management, good job. Perry… Pete… Wilbur and Arnold, congratulations, I understand you had your own nuptials? George, good to see you… Sidney… Chris… And I’m sorry, I don’t quite recognise the two in the computer…”

“Hi Mr. Sturgeon!”

_”Elmer Drimsdale?”_

“That’s me! And this is my girlfriend, Yukiko, from Japan! She doesn’t speak much English yet, but if you know Esperanto, she’s fluent!”

“My goodness! Er… Konban wa! Ogenki desu ka?”

Yukiko’s face split into a grin. She and Mr. Sturgeon had a slow but functional conversation in Japanese while everyone stared at their former Headmaster. Finally he sat back, smiling. “Well. This is wonderful.”

“Yeah!”

Mark looked at Bruno and grinned, “So what made you decide to pop the question?”

Bruno and Boots looked at each other in silence. They glanced around the table as the silence started to become awkward. “Um, just… Just trying to think of how to answer that without going into the whole thing,” Boots said, “It’s kind of not as happy as you were hoping.”

“On the other hand, we’ve known these guys for years and they managed to keep us a secret from Myron Blabbermouth,” Bruno said quietly.

Boots nodded. He took a deep breath and launched into a condensed version of the events leading up to his arrival in Toronto, then the confrontation at Wilbur’s food truck. Throughout it all, Mr. Sturgeon’s expression was difficult to decipher and didn’t change. 

“Seriously, ‘A disgrace to the O’Neal name’? I couldn’t pass up a moment like that,” Bruno added. He looked at Boots, again with that tender smile, “So I said he could have mine.”

Boots looked back, just as tender, “And I said okay.”

There was a long moment. “Oh come on, you guys, just kiss,” said Larry. Wilbur immediately started tapping his water glass with his fork, as did the others. 

Boots rolled his eyes, “This is just the engagement, what are they going to be like at the wedding?”

“Probably worse,” Bruno said. They kissed. 

* * * *

“… and **every single screen** is reading ‘Klaatu Barada Nikto’. He’d gotten into the main server,” George finished, to laughter, “And just last week, he somehow cracked my iPhone and changed my ringtone to the _Partridge Family_ theme.” 

More laughter. Boots was sitting wearing his “halo over devil horns” smile while Bruno beamed with pride. Mr. Sturgeon was wiping away tears - it was funny when it happened to someone else. “You knew it when you hired me,” Boots said reasonably.

“More’s the pity,” George sighed, “And unfortunately for me, the patients all love you.”

“He’s developed an amazing soothing-people voice, it’ll be great as a firefighter,” Bruno nodded. 

Sidney agreed, “I was running low on one of my strains and you didn’t have it in stock yet, but Boots was able to get me a strain with a similar terpene profile and it works almost as well. He really knows his stuff.”

“And he’s been a good ‘canary in the coal mine’ with regards to labour relations,” George nodded, “More than worth putting up with the jokes. I choose to interpret them as white-hat, anyways.”

“Very wise,” Mr. Sturgeon said. He glanced at his watch and blanched, “Good lord, is that the time?!”

Wilbur looked at the clock, “Whoops! Uh, okay, better get on with this.” He peeled the foil off of the champagne bottle, loosened the wire, then cupped his hands over the cork, “Um, might want to look away for this.” Everyone covered their faces and braced themselves. Even Elmer Drimsdale. 

There was a soft _pop_ then a sigh of relief. 

Then “Ohhhhh _crap_ **VOLCANO!** Quick, get your glasses under it!” Bruno and Boots looked up to see Wilbur waving the geysering bottle, dousing everything with wine, and they burst into hysterical laughter.

Eventually everyone had a champagne flute properly filled. Mr. Sturgeon took only a thimbleful since he was driving, but Edward had to be content with ginger ale. They all raised their glasses and waited for Wilbur. 

Whose mind had clearly gone blank. The silence drew out then Arnold started giggling. “Yeah, okay, I have no idea what to say,” Wilbur said at last, “I’m just really glad you two are back together and making each other happy again.”

“Well I know what I want to say,” said Elmer, “I wouldn’t be the person I am now without you guys. And I definitely wouldn’t be as happy.” He smiled at Yukiko. “I always hoped to be as happy as you two were. So stay happy, guys.”

“Aww, thanks, Elmer!”

Larry stood up, “What Elmer said, though. I think all of us hoped to some day be as happy as you two were together.”

Sidney grinned, “Although I question Boots’s sanity in wanting to spend the rest of his life holding Bruno’s leash aaaaaaaand that did not come out sounding quite like I meant it…” Everyone else burst into laughter.

Boots wiped his eyes. “I’m going into fire fighting. What else would I do after spending four years holding back chaos?” he grinned, “I’m pretty much primed for it now.”

“If I may say a few words?” Mr. Sturgeon said. He stood but didn’t raise his glass. “I am truly delighted for both of you. And as a long-married man, I wish you both to enjoy your relationship for as long as I’ve enjoyed mine.” Everyone smiled. “I have to say, though, I’m… dismayed by how much of this happy story has been marred by prejudice. What dismays me the most is hearing about how Melvin was cut off and evicted, and the realization that this is still happening. We like to believe that our boys are going back to safe homes but that just isn’t always the case. He is very fortunate that he could turn to Bruno. But not every young person has a Bruno, and not every Bruno has a supportive home able to accommodate. It disturbs me very much that this can and will happen again to MacDonald Hall students and alumni.” He glanced around the table. Wilbur had his arm around Arnold, who had tears rolling down his cheeks. Yukiko was openly crying as Elmer translated for her. Even George’s eyes were damp. “As I mentioned, Mr. Hubert will take my place as Headmaster next year and I’m quite certain he will agree with me. So I’m going to propose that, if any student or alumni need to leave an unsafe situation, they can come back to MacDonald Hall and we will provide a safe haven. And with your permission, I’d like to suggest that we call it the MacDonald Hall B and B.” 

“People fleeing frequently need help to get out,” Wilbur said quietly. 

Bruno looked around the table, “What do you all say to being an informal move team? Being on call to help someone get out?”

“We better be first on that speed-dial,” Wilbur said and Arnold nodded vigorously.

George nodded, “I can provide financial backing and sponsor the program.”

“I’m in,” Mark said, “Might be a few sleepless nights but it’d be worth it to get someone out of trouble.”

“Yeah. I’m in,” Larry agreed.

“So am I.”

“Me too.”

Boots looked at Mr. Sturgeon and nodded, “You can count on us, sir. Call us and we’ll be there.”

Mr. Sturgeon shook his head in deep respect, “You’ve already given more than any other students in MacDonald Hall’s history, and you’re still giving.”

“We’re Energizer Bunnies,” Bruno grinned and Boots nodded.

“To Bruno and Boots, everybody,” Chris said. 

**_”To Bruno and Boots!”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first _Bruno and Boots_ book I read was _Beware The Fish_ , in the original "Mortarboard" edition (so called because the logo has a mortarboard hanging off _Bruno_ , which is hella ironic.) These editions had black & white illustrations, and the artist had given Elmer Drimsdale features that read to me as African, so for over thirty-five years I've imagined Elmer Drimsdale as a black boy. Needless to say, seeing Elmer played by a short white boy in stills from the movies was quite jarring. Almost as jarring as seeing a thin Wilbur Hackenschleimer, since I've always imagined him as having the physique of those guys on the _Strongest Man in the World_ contest programs, ie what would call a "thicc boi" and "absolute unit" - big and hella hella strong. Arnold is a direct import from the movies, thanks to another fic making me aware of his existence, but I made up his last name because I was unable to find one -- will correct if ever located.


	5. Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruno and Boots and what dreams are made of

“…And then he tells me I have to follow a Mediterranean diet! I already eat a Mediterranean diet!”

“Wilbur, pizza, lasagna and spaghetti do not count as a Mediterranean diet,” Arnold sighed.

“They’re Italian!”

“The way that you’re German,” Arnold countered, “And you’re not deprived. We don’t even have to give them up, just modify a few things.”

Larry Wilson shook his head, “Here I figured he’d enjoy it as a challenge! Seriously, though, Wilbur, I’m sure we’d all rather give up pizza than lose you to another heart attack.”

“I know, I know,” Wilbur sighed. He looked up at the podiums and shook his head, “This debate isn’t going very well for Bruno, is it.”

Chris Talbot shook his head, “Too many years of bad governments and broken promises, too many apathetic voters. It was bad when we graduated but a lot’s gone wrong over the last fifteen-odd years.”

“Yeah,” Wilbur sighed, “How’s Amanda?”

“Chip off the old block,” Chris said proudly, “I gave her her first set of acrylics for her birthday.”

“Do you still talk to Mark Davies?”

“Yeah, he got his Australia citizenship, he’s a dual now.”

“Good to hear!”

“Excuse me, are you… Are you Wilbur Hackenschleimer?”

They all turned to see a woman with fire-engine red dyed hair standing beside them. “Wilbur Hackenschleimer-Wensleydale, that’s me. Have we met?”

The woman broke into a wide grin, “I’m Cathy Burton, I went to Miss Scrimmage’s!”

“Cathy!!”

“Oh my God!”

“I remember you!”

“I came to watch Bruno’s debate,” she said, “Is Boots still around? Where is he?”

Wilbur nodded, “Yeah, he is, but he got called away to the Waterton wildfire.”

“Looks like they’re about to call a break,” Chris interrupted, “Yup, they’ve called it. Come on, let’s go get a drink.”

They filed out of the auditorium and managed to get to the bar before the crowd got thick, then they clustered around a small table to catch up. There was a tv monitor nearby, broadcasting a news channel. Larry kept glancing up when it started showing footage of the wildfire. Then suddenly he stared. “Get Bruno! Guys, somebody **get Bruno!** ”

* * * *

“Hello?”

“Mom? It’s Edward. Are you watching CTV News? Put it on, quick! That’s Melvin!”

“What?! The news said he was a platoon captain, Mel Walton…”

“It’s Melvin, Mom! He took Bruno’s name when they got married! _That’s Melvin!_ ”

* * * *

Bruno stood at his podium, staring out over the audience and not really seeing any of them. It was his turn and he’d totally lost track of the speech he’d prepared. “I’m,” he winced at the mike feedback and tried again, “I’m sure many of you saw the news… That firefighter in Waterton who rescued that kid and the dog and the kitten. Man’s like a clown car, wasn’t he?” There was a low chuckle around the audience. “That man is my husband. So I’m a little emotional right now, as I’m sure pretty much anybody would be after watching their loved one living their dream. He wanted to be a firefighter. He wanted to make a difference.” He looked at the podium. “We went to school together, at MacDonald Hall…” A chorus of whoops answered him. He looked up and grinned, “Yeah, Mac Hall alumni!” More whoops and he looked over to another part of the auditorium, “You guys too? You look like recent grads? Yeah? Well, great to know you, fellas! I **loved** MacDonald Hall!” There were cheers. 

Bruno glanced at the other debaters, his opponents - then he grinned. “Yeah, I loved MacDonald Hall, best school ever. And I know some people say, ‘He went to private school, what would he know about public education?’” There were murmurs from the audience and Bruno nodded, “Well, I had public education until I went to Mac Hall. And I hated school. Then I went to MacDonald Hall and I learned, it doesn’t have to be like that. You shouldn’t have to hate your school. MacDonald Hall was the best experience ever and everyone should have that.”

“Not everyone can have that,” said his primary opponent and his condescending tone touched a nerve. 

Bruno turned to look at him contemplatively, “Why not?”

“Well, not everyone can afford to go to private schools.”

Bruno shook his head, “What does that have to do with the Mac Hall experience?” The MacDonald Hall alumni cheered. “You don’t know what the Mac Hall experience is, do you? No, you don’t. But **you** went to York Academy.” Cheers from other parts of the audience. “You’ve been telling people to look down on me for going to a private school, when you went to a private school yourself. Did your constituents know that?” Now a disapproving murmur rose from the audience. Bruno turned his gaze over them, “The MacDonald Hall experience doesn’t come from going to a private school. It comes from having engaged teachers, a solid curriculum, smaller classes. It comes from an environment that fosters cooperation. It comes from learning that what we can’t do alone, we can do together. It comes from building strong foundations in trust, in friendship, in caring about each other and our community, because our community **is** each other. It comes from knowing our teachers are not our enemies, but our mentors.”

There was a low roar rising. “When MacDonald Hall was in danger of closing, we **all** pulled together to save it. All of us, from MacDonald Hall and from Miss Scrimmage’s Finishing School across the highway-” A wave of screams rose up. “Hi ladies!! All of us, we pulled together and we saved the Hall. Yeah, that!” He pointed to a monitor screen where someone had posted the video footage of him, Boots, Mr. Sturgeon, and the two detectives, pleading for the life of MacDonald Hall. “That’s me. That’s what I’ll do for education, and that’s when I was in it! Believe me, I have **not** given up that fight. Ontario’s education system means more to me than ever! Because-” he choked up for a moment before he could continue, “You saw my husband tonight. That was his dream, to make a difference. And Humboldt College was there for him and helped him make that dream into the reality you saw tonight, live broadcast on national television, you saw him living that dream. You saw him making a difference, because of community college. And they’re all over Ontario, making a difference, helping people live their dreams. And we can help them, but only if we come together. I can’t do it alone but I can do it with everyone. **That’s** the MacDonald Hall way.” 

By now the roar had become enthusiastic chanting. There were cheers and screams and singing and Bruno could barely hear himself over the noise. He turned to face his primary opponent and gestured at the monitor showing himself as a student, begging for his school. “That’s how much education means to me. What’s it mean to you?”

And there was pandemonium.

* * * *

“Boots, it was just like old times! The old Bruno was IN!” Bruno gushed triumphantly. He grinned slyly into his laptop camera, “That’s the one thing those York turkeys could never, ever beat us at, not even once - debate!”

“Did you tell them our world was crumbling around us?” Boots chuckled.

“Honestly, I have no idea what I said. Everything I had prepared just went out the window!”

“How do you think you did?”

“Won’t know until the polls close,” Bruno sighed, “But I totally aced that debate, thanks to you.”

Boots arched his eyebrow at his phone, “Me? I had nothing to do with it, I wasn’t even there!”

Bruno shook his head, “Babe, you had _everything_ to do with it. I saw you rescuing that kid and the pets and I just… It just opened the floodgates, man, everything just kept pouring out.”

“Yeah I heard later I was on tv and going viral,” Boots winced. He looked sweaty, sooty and exhausted. “The deer was bad enough.”

“The deer was precious,” Bruno countered, “Seriously though, are you okay? You look bagged out.”

Boots nodded, “Yeah, I got a little cooked with that stunt but I’ll be alright. I need a shower and a few days sleep. I’m more worried about that kid, he sustained some burns and smoke inhalation. The kitten’s recovering but the dog’s in bad shape, he got burned pretty badly protecting the other two.”

Bruno teared up, “Oh my God, he was protecting his boy and his kitten!”

Boots nodded, “I wouldn’t have found them if it weren’t for him barking. The vets are doing everything they can for him.”

“Such a good boy!”

“He is totally a good boy,” Boots nodded. He tilted his head tiredly, “Sorry I couldn’t be there for your debate.”

Bruno shook his head and raised a hand to shush him, “You wanted to fight wildfires. You wanted to make a difference. You _totally_ made a difference today, everyone at the debate saw you making a difference.” Bruno grew serious and leaned closer to the screen, “Boots, babe, do you realize what you’ve done? You were on **national television** , the whole country saw you. Hundreds, _thousands_ of kids and young people were watching you and thinking the same as you did, ‘I want to do what that guy’s doing.’ You were That Guy today. Hundreds of kids are going to want to be you.” Boots was silent. Bruno sat back, gazing at the man he’d loved since he was a teenager, “You were needed, and you were still there for me. You’re still inspiring me, Boots, you always have. If I win this election, it’ll be because of you.” 

“I know who I’m voting for,” Boots grinned.

“Go shower, get some sleep,” Bruno smiled, “Dream of me and our cottage in Chutney. I love you, Boots.”

Boots smiled and his eyes filled with love and longing, “I love you too, Bruno. I can’t wait to come home.”

* * * *

_Bruno Walton was elected Minister of Education. His term was recorded as one of the most effective in Ontario’s history. His husband, Melvin P. Walton (O’Neal), rose to the rank of Fire Chief, which he held for five years before retiring to teach firefighting to the next generations._

_The dog lived._

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't seen the movies. I wish! But nobody carries them here. I've only seen the trailers and a few snippets here and there. But I've loved the books since I first read _Beware the Fish!_ back in 1983.


End file.
